


Half Agony, Half Hope

by ardentaislinn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma struggles to deal with her guilt over what happened to Fitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Agony, Half Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atomicsupervillainess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicsupervillainess/gifts).



Every time Jemma saw his hands shake it was like a punch to the gut.

Whenever he stumbled over his words it was like a vice slowly tightening around her chest, squeezing the very breath from her lungs.

And each time she saw him grow frustrated with a task that he used to do with ease, it was like adding more fuel to the smouldering embers of remorse that plagued her day and night.

That was her. She’d done that to him.

She’d taken a breath that could have been his and stolen something that she knew he considered an integral part of himself. His hands and his mind, two of the things he had actually been proud of amongst all the things he lacked confidence about. _Perhaps the only thing he liked about himself at all_ , her guilty conscience whispered.

Jemma knew on some level that she did him a discredit by thinking and feeling this way. It had been his choice, after all. To blame herself for allowing him his own agency in that moment was certainly unfair to both of them.

But she couldn’t seem to move on.

She’d tried. She’d gone undercover at Hydra; got out of the toxic environment and tried to heal in a new place, around new people. Have a different focus. It hadn’t worked, of course. It just added to her guilt knowing she had abandoned him.

Misery whispered at her day and night. Jemma wanted desperately to talk to someone, perhaps a professional, but even a friend. Sadly, neither were an option. The SHIELD therapists no longer existed and any other mental health professional would have to be kept in the dark regarding most of what had brought her there.

And these days, any friend of hers would also be a friend of Fitz’s. It didn’t seem fair to unburden on a person that may feel like they had to choose sides.

It wasn’t just about Fitz, of course. Jemma had demons from that day that had little to do with him. She’d nearly died - it was natural for her to have a lingering blight on her soul. Her time in Hydra had only worsened that wound, worrying at it until it merged and entwined with her agony over Fitz’s fate.

To block out her feelings, she would train. Either with May, or without, she would go to the gym and push her body to the limits; until she couldn’t even think beyond a blissful blackness. It was the only time she felt in control. The only time she didn’t feel herself spiralling down into the dark chasm of regret.

It was an illusion, she knew.

Because some days the blackness would swarm up and overtake her like a dark wave; until she found herself crouched and shaking, biting her tongue to stop the cries. Only ever when she was alone, though these days that was more often than not.

Jemma knew it couldn’t last forever. She was breaking, crumbling more at the edges with every passing day and soon she would be nothing but dust.

`

Until it wasn’t her that was crumbling, it was the world around her.

Dirt and stone thundered down around them. Jemma didn’t know whether it was her or Fitz that reached for the other - perhaps it was both - but soon they were clinging to one another; drowning together once again, but this time under earth instead of under water.

They stumbled under an overhang to protect their heads, still not moving out of their awkward embrace.

The fall of soil and stone stopped the same instant an anguished, wordless scream sounded over the comms.

“Skye,” Jemma whispered, recognising the voice of her friend. But there was no answer before the last of the stones settled and the line went dead.

“Do you think she’s…?” Jemma couldn’t say the words.

“She’ll be OK,” Fitz replied reassuringly. It wasn’t until Jemma curled her fingers into his bicep that she realised she was still attached to him. She slowly released him, desperately trying not to be awkward about it, and cleared her throat. Jemma imagined that his arms stayed around her a split second longer, reluctant to let her go.

“She’s strong,” Jemma said more to herself than Fitz, staring at his shoulder instead of his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, gaze soft in her direction.

“I guess we better get out,” she said, more decisively than she felt. Restlessness darted through her limbs, telling her to run from him, her feelings, everything. Being so close to him was no longer good for her.

She paced towards the door. Except there was no door. She froze as she realised the fall of rocks had blocked the entrance.

Fitz came up beside her, standing a little too close, and Jemma closed her eyes in a brief moment of longing.

Without saying anything, Fitz picked himself over to the newly-formed rock wall and began carefully climbing up, trying to get a better view. Not two steps up the pile of stones wobbled ominously. Heart in her throat, Jemma wrapped her arms around Fitz from behind, pulling him away from the danger and into her. Her hands were splayed against his chest and they both breathed hard, whether from the fright or the proximity, Jemma didn’t dare guess.

“Careful,” she murmured, before easing her hands off his chest and back to her sides.

“Yeah,” he replied. His shoulders were tense as he turned to face her. “I think we’re...I think we’re trapped. And those rocks are too structurally unsound to attempt to move from this side.”

“Oh,” Jemma replied. She wandered over to where they had set down their kit and brushed the boxes clear of dirt as best she could. She sat gingerly onto one, then leaned back against the rock wall, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her fingers against her elbow.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz said softly. He was standing a distance away, and Jemma was torn between wanting him closer and wanting him further away.

Jemma glanced up at him. “For what?” she asked, a furrow in her brow.

“I don’t know. But you only do that arm thing when you’re upset, and since I’m the only one here I figured I made you that way.”

Jemma looked down at her defensive arm gesture and sighed, placing her hands in her lap instead. “It’s not you,” she told him.

“Skye, then? I know she sounded upset, but-,” he broke off at the shake of her head. “Then, what? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Jemma sucked in a painful breath and felt the tears burn at the back of her eyes. She had to get out. She needed to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

“You can’t help, Fitz,” she said as gently as she was able, given the slicing turmoil inside her.

Fitz’s fists seemed to clench involuntarily and his pained eyes closed for a brief moment. “I always used to be able to,” he said sadly as he opened his eyes and fixed his gentle gaze on her.

Jemma’s throat closed over at expression in his eyes. There was no anger, no hate. Just a quiet kind of sorrow.

“I know,” she managed.

“I know you hate me now and think I’m useless, but I-,” he stopped himself, and Jemma felt a tear spill over and roll down her cheek.

“I don’t hate you Fitz. I could never hate you. And you certainly aren’t useless.”

“Then why can’t you ever _look_ at me now? Are you so ashamed of what I told you down there that you are embarrassed to meet my eye?” His misery was palpable even from where she sat. Jemma rose, and strode towards him for a few steps.

“It’s not you I’m ashamed of, Fitz,” she told him in an agonised whisper.

His gaze shifted and sharpened, focusing on her more directly. “What do _you_ have to be ashamed of?” He sounded utterly incredulous. He couldn’t see it.

Jemma drew a shaky breath. “It’s not me that thinks you’re useless. It’s _you_. And I did that. That’s my fault.” She said it so matter-of-factly, even though it was the first time she’d said those thoughts out loud.

Fitz paused for a long moment, staring at her in dawning horror. “ _What?”_

“You are miserable and hurting and you act like you’ve lost the best part of yourself. Because I let you do it. Because I couldn’t find a way. I couldn’t find a better way to save us both.” Her words came out harsh and unyielding.

Fitz took a step forward, his arms raised towards her. In her weakness, Jemma didn’t move away, so he came closer; his hands landing on her arms, steady and sure.

“Jemma,” Fitz murmured. She glanced into his eyes and then away, unable to bear the tenderness in his gaze. “Jemma, look at me.” She gathered her strength and did, startled by the clarity of affection in his eyes. “Jemma, you’re...you’re right. I did lose the best of me down in that medpod.” Her lungs constricted painfully. “But that’s because I lost...I lost _you_ down there. You are the b-best part of me. You make me a better man, a better scientist, a better...everything. And I haven’t had that since I woke up. I’m frustrated by hands and my mind, yes. But I don’t mind it half so much when you are by my side. I just...you make me believe in myself, Jemma. And I was never quite as down on myself as I was when I thought I had lost that faith you have in me. I mean...why do you think I fell in love with you in the first place?”

Tears were streaming down her face, and as his words poured out, the vice-like grip on her chest began to slowly loosen.

“Fitz, I…,” she began, her voice unsteady.

“It’s OK,” he interrupted her. “You don’t have to say anything.” His thumbs brush comfortingly against her arms.

“No, I do. I want...I need to get my head sorted out. I don’t know what I am feeling about anything right now. But when I do, I suspect I might...feel the same way.”

Fitz smiled a gentle, loving smile, and Jemma felt that vice loosen a little bit more. “I can wait. For however long you need.”

Jemma leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered into his skin.

He was about to reply when May’s voice sounded through the rock fall. “Stand back!”

They scrambled back as far away from the entrance as they could just in time for it to crumble into the room. Jemma grabbed Fitz’s hand as they moved towards the waiting May, feeling more free than she had in a long time.

`

It was harder than Jemma had thought, healing herself.

Every time she thought she’d made progress, she would find herself slip into a spiral of blame and self-recrimination. May helped sometimes. Jemma had eventually confided in her and found the older woman to be supportive, understanding, and wholly without judgement.

Fitz, too, was a saviour in her darkest times. He quickly learned to recognise the signs of regret and blame that crept over her whenever she saw him stumble at some task. He’d always be sure to remind her that her thoughts weren’t reality. That he was there, and whole, and happy. He’d make her laugh, too, which she hadn’t done in a very long time.

And slowly she eased into a place where she felt normal again. The black moments were rare, and lesser in severity when they did come.

This time when she got lost staring at Fitz’s hands, it wasn’t to lament the slight tremor she saw.

“Jemma!” Fitz interrupted her unruly thoughts, clearly not the first time he’d said her name.

“Hmmm?” she asked, a blush tinging her cheeks.

He moved towards her, a look of concern on his face. “Are you alright? Are you having a bad moment?” The backs of his fingers brushed over her cheek.

“No,” she told him. “I’m having a good moment.”

Fitz looked adorably befuddled. “What?”

Instead of answering, Jemma cupped his face and pressed her lips firmly against his. Fitz froze for a moment before hesitantly kissing her back. His hands were cautious as they found her waist and slowly drew her closer.

Jemma was tempted to deepen the kiss but she had something to say first. She pulled back regretfully.

“I know what I’m feeling, now, Fitz,” she told him, her gaze steady on his. “And I definitely feel the same way. If you still do, that is.”

Fitz huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Of course I still do.”

“Right. Good. In that case, I’d like to kiss you again.”

And so she did. And if Fitz’s hands were unsteady, Jemma knew it wasn’t from the aphasia.

 


End file.
